the miami mirror

[themiamimirror]

she said "don't be late"

i said "you always are"

but in this dream, in this memory

she meant it, and although i tried

i could never reach her

before me she stood, a landscape of

ever changing color and dimension

to set my gaze upon her soft curves

would transform them

into other soft curves

there, but not there

and as i reached, i never did touch

but only felt, as a dying man feels

each grain of sand slip through

the vials of desire

"you will not catch me" she said

that's never what i wanted

but i don't have the words

to describe what i truly desired

and so reaching, grasping

gasping for the air in your lungs

to become the life in mine

i mimic the rhythm of breaths

but never is the taste quite the same

[themiamimirror]

If I were you And you me With whose eyes Would we both see?

That external world Of light and sound Does it come from within Or rise from the ground?

This experiment Conducted countless times In dreams, in sleep

Growing ever more tired A secret to keep...

The illusion consumes; Rhythm of fire Licks my eyelids And yours moisten

Or mine, but I feel it Unsure of where And so I knotted in eye We close slowly And dream of sleep

[themiamimirror]

[themiamimirror]

[themiamimirror]

[themiamimirror]

[themiamimirror]

[themiamimirror]

tired of writing

the words don't come as they used to

tired of life

frozen moments persist, absent you

tired of wanting

the words don't mean what they used to

tired of death

frozen moments persist, because of you

[themiamimirror]

isn't it all just about

how we ask the question?

does not this first movement 

carry with it a pre-movement

(and perhaps this, a pre- as well)

which entails the craft

the shaping of our inquiry 

desire disguised for deceit 

never show your true colors

(they only fade, after all)

and so instead of asking directly

we invent words

the perfected medium of lies

trustworthy in black and white

no need for colors

no need for movement

only answers

to questions assumed by others

never asked

by our true selves

[themiamimirror]

a mistake, you whispered

a mistake

and in that whisper

a power to destroy

blossomed from the crests

of mellifluous-like waves

lingering expectations as though 

they were not empty illusions;

you wouldn't expect it

such devastation 

from so small an act

or maybe you would

for your act was intended

it was i who made the mistake

mistook you, your attention

for love, for life,

for freedom

it was not your whisper 

that cold morning

of destruction

but a whisper never perceived

thrust out of the void

pushing onward

the mistaken movements

[themiamimirror]

we miss with words

that principle which surrounds us

two worlds collide

but are not separate

they dance on the stage of appearances

politely taking turns

deluding the man who no longer creates himself

but bows down to the letters

of gods, kings, teachers, parents,

reality TV stars of yesterday

asking the same thing of you

don't you want success (via everlasting history)?

they chime in sing-song fashion

at every point of resistance

they breed this fear of scarcity (of self)

to force us to produce (slavery extended in all directions)

but this is not that which surrounds us

this is that which sickens us

fragments our relationships

poisons our ecological home-life

if we cannot reach that which surrounds us with words

perhaps we should stop talking about life

and start living it

[themiamimirror]

sit up straight

chin high

take it like a man

implying courage

in passive fear,

conditioned responses,

sacrifice (deliver us from evil!);

when it comes to you and them

there is nothing mutual

they will take your life

in all its unique freedom

and in return grant the prolonged death

of science and industry

you will not see them,

the little moments of paternal intervention,

until they surround your every move

and lay claim to a space-time

once as fertile as the earth herself

begging for the creative spark

to impregnate the emptiness 

and deliver us 

deliver us

[themiamimirror]

charity walks down the street

what a sexy bitch

she'll let you have anything you want

and still feel good about it

that piping hot coffee to start your day

$5 a cup, outrageous!

ohh, but, it will help plant more trees

(trees, but not wildlife)

and it's 'fair' trade

fairness . . . 

charity has turned slavery into 'free' trade

sublimating truth by the machine-spun conditioning of threads

she makes the pot-bellied, cigar puffing execs fat

at the same eternal expense of sacrifice 

delivered to the feudal gods of yesteryear

children on the steps of calcutta

disemboweled by the empty values of ideology

the dictates of economic titans

yet, she wears it all with a nod and a smile

all that blush, what's the point of veneer?

ah yes, sweet cynical rapture

ensure that despite the wolf's intent

his teeth are misconstrued 

by the wool-spent web of altruist absurdity

while she tucks the corners gently

into the neat bed-folds

of quotidian death

[themiamimirror]

rain dancing upon brick pavers

mellifluous vibes trickle empty through space

now at a table

once in your eyes

a reflection of infinite sadness

that dances upon brick pavers

acid strings from an industrial progress

pulled when convenient

when power

when money

when self-hate

you were sent to save me

silly rabbit

we could have killed us

if convinced we weren't already dead

crushed under the dancing brick pavers

[themiamimirror]

if we set every bridge in the world on fire

what might happen?

would people risk there life to swim channels

descend gorges

wade the endless swamps?

back to the ones they love, hate, or love to hate (hate to love)?

i don’t know

i feel that if i say yes or no to any of the above,

i will have murdered their freedom in stride.

the only way to know for sure (i’m sure)

is to strike the match

and let them burn

[themiamimirror]

since my childhood

i could never grasp why

death comes with an eternal sigh

one day you're here

the next you're not

they put you in the ground to rot

and as you sleep

just six feet deep

your predicament is to be forgot

cut to center stage

linear dancers of history above

fail like all the meaningless doves

to bring back mere branches

when we demand life

[themiamimirror]

it all seems so strange

the way they arrive in packs at the places

water shooting from a fountain in center

they herd around, thirsty

a boy and girl, one translucent, the other a rainbow

walk to the edge

she kneels down, he looks up, the sky is immeasurable

reaching forth, a hand into the glass tension

breaks

instantly those thirsty

rush

smother the children in their greed